


Colorful Christmas

by GraveVyxen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraveVyxen/pseuds/GraveVyxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky'd been saving for months to buy Steve the best Christmas present ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorful Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: Colorful Christmas  
> CHARACTERS: James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, Steve Rogers, mentions others  
> PAIRINGS: None, really. Was intended to be Steve/Bucky, but that never really came to fruition, though I guess it could be if you want to read it that way?  
> NOTES: Written as a holiday request for ballvvasher :)  
> DISCLAIMER: Not my characters.

He'd been so excited when he'd thought of it. It took Bucky nearly three months of savings to get Steve's Christmas present, but it was worth it, Steve was worth all of that.

After all of the pay for rent and food, medicine for Steve, who'd been nearly constantly sick since November, Bucky wasn't sure he'd be able to put away enough money for what he'd wanted to buy; a pad of drawing paper, a brand new set of acrylic paints, and a paintbrush. But he had, just barely, and he guessed he should chalk that up to a Christmas miracle as he left the store, a brown-wrapped package in his hands. He'd hurried home to their apartment, with its finicky heating system, and nearly dropped his gift in his haste to open the door.

Steve's head had whipped around when Bucky came in, causing a coughing fit from the small blonde.

Bucky frowned and set aside the present to hurry over to Steve's side, patting his back until his coughs subsided. "Hey, don't die before Christmas, Steve. Geeze." He tried to joke, only getting a glare in reply. "If you wanna play it that way, maybe you won't get your present, and I'll just return it."

Steve's blue eyes went wide at that. "You bought me something? Bucky! We made a deal, remember?" His voice was hoarse and grinding from his cold. It made Bucky wince. "No presents this year! I haven't been able to hold a job in months, I never got to buy you anything."

Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder and grinned. "I don't mind." He went to pick up his package and slipped it under the small tree they had, a gift from the neighbors when they'd found that the boys couldn't afford one of their own. It wasn't decorated, neither of them had the money to buy those, but it was a tree nonetheless. "I wanted to do something for you. You  _are_  my best pal, after all."

Steve picked up the small piece of charcoal he'd dropped when Bucky'd startled him and went back to his smudgy drawing. It resembled their little tree, except in the picture, Steve had made it more robust and handsome than it appeared in real life. The tree looked almost as sickly as Steve. "Now I have to find a way to pay you back. I can't afford a present, Buck."

"Make me a picture." Bucky offered, flopping down next to Steve on the ratty couch the Sisters had given the two of them when Bucky had aged out of the orphanage. They'd always liked him. "I like your art."

Steve sighed and set aside his charcoal drawing of their Christmas tree. "This is my last piece of charcoal. Wouldn't be a big picture." His eyes fell to the small stack of paper that he still had for art. "When I'm not sick, I need to pick up another job to get some more paper and charcoal." The man mused before another coughing fit grabbed him.

Bucky moved to hold on to Steve when the blonde doubled over next to him. "Don't hack up a lung, Steve, Christ!" He tried to smile as he sat back with Steve. "Mrs. Morris down the hall gave us some tea, want me to make you some?"

Steve groaned. "First the Finsters with the tree, now Mrs. Morris, and you. I won't be able to pay any of you back with gifts. This is the worst." He wheezed when Bucky went to the kitchen to heat some water. "I need to get back to work. I should be down at the docks with you."

"No, you shouldn't." Bucky said, seriously. "You should be laying down, resting, and getting back to full strength." When Steve scoffed at that, and nearly sent himself back into a fit, Bucky frowned more deeply. "Don't you dare leave this apartment until you're back to full health, Steve. I mean it."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You aren't my mother, Bucky, I can take care of myself."

"Promise me." Bucky poured the hot water over the tea leaves to let them steep. "Say, 'Bucky, I promise that I won't go back to work until I'm at full health'."

"Don't think my body knows the meaning of 'full health'." Steve replied weakly. He managed to hold in a cough. "But fine. I won't go back to work until the sickness clears up. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Bucky grinned a little. "Here. Drink." He put a chipped, warm mug into Steve's hands. "And you never know, maybe Santa'll bring you some art stuff for Christmas, if you're a good boy." He tapped the end of Steve's nose and got another glare in answer.

Steve took a few sips of the tea before setting it back on the table. "What d'you want me to draw?"

"Work on something for the Finsters first." Bucky smiled and nudged him. "Mine can wait."

Steve sighed and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper to begin a skyline picture of Coney Island from memory. He'd always had a good memory for shapes. "I might run out of charcoal before I get to your picture, Buck."

"Trust me, I don't mind." Bucky ruffled Steve's hair and stood to stretch. "When you're finished, we should probably turn in. Santa won't come if we're still up." He joked before going to get himself a bowl of oatmeal.

It was another two hours, and two more mugs of tea for Steve, later when Steve set the finished skyline on the table. "Should I take this over to them?"

Bucky shook his head and yawned. "Nah, they probably turned in already. They have that little one."

Steve nodded, rubbing his eyes. "At least Mr. Hood got the heat fixed in the building. Not so cold."

"And he's not charging extra." Bucky grinned. "As a show of goodwill and Christmas spirit. And here, I always thought he was a Scrooge. Not such a bad guy. Just doesn't like fixing things."

Steve smiled back and stretched. He smacked at Bucky when the other man tried to help him to the bedroom where their twin beds had been pushed together so that they could stave off any lingering cold with body heat. "I can make it on my own, Bucky!"

Bucky just smiled. "Alright, alright, princess. Sorry for being a friend." He began to strip down so that he could dress in something more comfortable for sleep. "I can take a hint."

Steve climbed back into the rumpled sheets. He'd never bothered to change from his pajamas, with how sick he'd been.

Bucky pulled back the blankets on his side of the bed and slid in next to Steve. He curled up around Steve's back. "Goodnight."

"'Night." Steve mumbled back, already half asleep.

The next morning, Bucky could hardly wait to watch Steve open his gift. He was so excited to see the other man's face when he unwrapped new art supplies on Christmas day. Before they'd even gotten to the living room, however, there was a knock on the door.

Steve hurried to answer it. "Mrs. Morris!" He greeted the elderly woman with a large grin. "Thank you so much for the tea."

"Did it help your cold, any, Steven?" The woman asked. She was holding a paper bag in her hand. Bucky wondered vaguely what could be inside of it.

"Loads, ma'am." Steve moved aside to welcome her in.

Mrs. Morris waved him off and handed over the bag. "No, no, the husband and I were heading out again. Our daughter invited us for dinner and, well, since we won't be cooking, we figured that the two of you might want this."

Steve looked into the bag and paled before thrusting it back at her. "We can't accept this, ma'am. You should save it for later this month when rent's due."

"Steven, please." She smiled. "Raymond and I, well, we're to move in with our daughter the first of the year. The least you can do is accept the goodwill of an old couple wanting to help. It's Christmas."

Bucky leaned over to look into the bag. A small bag of potatoes, a ham, cans of corn and peas, a bottle of champagne. He felt himself tearing up at the goodwill of their neighbor. "Ma'am, you must have spent a fortune, we can't accept this."

"Don't say no to me, James." Mrs. Morris smiled. "You two have always been so helpful to Raymond and I. This is the least we can do with our moving out."

Steve bit his lip and handed the bag over to Bucky. "Let me get you something." He hurried into the living room to leaf through his sketchbook, coming back with a pencil drawing of Mr. and Mrs. Morris that he'd done at a building-wide gathering over the summer, and his charcoal sketch of the Christmas tree. "At least take these. To remember us by."

Mrs. Morris daintily took the papers in hand and smiled. "Thank you, Steven. Merry Christmas. We'll come by tonight with some coffee if you two would like, so we can talk some before we're moved out." She leaned in to hug each of the boys in turn.

After they'd watched Mrs. Morris head down the hallway, Bucky took the food into the kitchen and began to unpack it. "She gave us a whole ton of stuff. I can't believe it!"

Steve nodded and moved to set the oven, slow though it was, so that they could cook the ham. "We finally get to make a real Christmas dinner."

Bucky nodded in agreement. He'd never gotten to really have a Christmas dinner before, at least not one that he remembered. His last one had been while he was still very young, before his mother and father had died. At Christmas in the orphanage, they were lucky to get a hot meal that filled their tummies, with how many kids there'd been. It was hard to get gas to heat their food most days there, and there was never enough to go around.

Steve's hand on Bucky's shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "I can't lift it." The smaller man motioned at the ham. "Too heavy."

Bucky cracked a smile. "Maybe you should tell it off, might get it to do what you want." He teased as he moved to unwrap the food and put it in their only pan. "Go sit down. You have presents to open. I got this."

Steve gave Bucky a look of exasperation before heading over to the couch. He sat down heavily and crossed his arms. "I don't want any presents, Buck. You know that."

Bucky shook his head, putting the ham in the oven and mentally figuring out the time he'd need to wait before they could eat it. "Too bad. Already got them. They ain't going back to the store." He ambled easily back to the living room and crouched under the tree. He found the wrapped package he'd brought home yesterday. "Here. Merry Christmas."

Steve reluctantly took the gift, turning it over in his hands. "'S heavy." He murmured. "Bucky, please, tell me you didn't spend too much."

"Shh." Bucky waved off the question as he fell onto the couch at Steve's side. "Don't ask me about it. Just open it."

Steve took a deep breath to protest, but when he saw the glare Bucky had fixed him with, he thought better of arguing. "Okay, okay." His finger slid under the paper and popped the tape. He was careful at opening the wrapping, determined to save it. If nothing else, he could draw on it. When he finally got everything unwrapped, though, Steve gasped. "Bucky, you didn't!"

"I did." Bucky puffed his chest out proudly. "Do you like 'em?"

Steve's eyes were wide as he lifted the case of tubed paints from the paper. "You...no, Bucky, you shouldn't have."

Bucky smiled. "I wanted to."

"But, they're so..." Steve looked ready to cry as he turned to his friend, finally throwing his arms around Bucky's neck. "Thank you! This must have cost all of your pay..."

"I saved for months." Bucky finally admitted, patting Steve's back. "But you're the only one of my Christmas list, so I thought, 'why not?'" He pulled back from the hug. "Do you like 'em?"

Steve nodded. He leaned back in shock as he laid the paints and brush on the table. "I can't believe it. My own acrylics. I can paint so many things with them." He took out the pad of paper and smiled. "And more sketch paper, thank you. I need to see if I can find some more charcoal around for cheap so I can draw. Or pencil. Pencil would be nice, too."

Bucky tilted his head, confused. "You can't just use the paint?"

"On paper?" Steve asked incredulously. "Bucky, the paint is too heavy for paper. Didn't the salesman tell you that? If you want to use paint for pictures, you need a canvas." An expression of realization dawned on his face at the same moment that a blush overtook Bucky's. "You didn't get me a canvas, did you?"

Bucky shook his head slowly. "I...I mean he...he told me canvas is great for those, but...Steve, it was just too expensive." He looked down at his hands. "I couldn't afford the canvas."

Steve shook his head, patting Bucky's back. "It's okay. I can paint on the walls, or the table. I can make art on anything, Bucky."

Bucky sighed and chewed at his lip. "But it's not the same. I didn't know you couldn't paint on paper." He glanced around, eyes landing on his worn out jacket, hanging on a peg by the door. "Can you...paint my coat?"

Steve's eyes followed Bucky's, and a smile lit his face. "I'd love to." He murmured, moving to grab it. He laid it across the table, inside up, to inspect. "I can paint the lining, so no one says anything. It'll be like it's just for you."

Bucky felt himself smiling. "That can be your gift for me, then. Paint my coat, so I can have one of Steve Rogers' early artworks to carry along with me, everywhere."

Steve began uncapping the tubes of paint, squeezing dollops out onto some old sketch paper. "You got it."

Steve wasn't finished with the painting until Bucky had already set their small kitchen table for dinner and gotten everything made. The blonde finally sat back and sniffed the air, smiling. "It smells so good, Bucky."

"Hope so." Bucky smiled. "I worked on dinner long enough. Come on, let's eat before it gets cold, huh?"

It was one of the best dinners they'd ever had, too, and when it was over, Steve showed Bucky the mural of colors he'd done inside the jacket. "Now I know there's some spots that aren't that nice lookin'..." He started.

"What are you talking about, Steve?" Bucky lifted the jacket up. "I love it! I'm gonna wear it everywhere!"

"Well, you gotta let it finish drying first." Steve reminded with a grin. "And then you can wear it wherever you want."

Bucky smiled and set the jacket back down. He turned to hug Steve tightly. "Thanks, Steve. Really. I love it."

Steve rubbed Bucky's back gently. "You're welcome, Bucky. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, pal."


End file.
